Highlander: The Gathering
by The Skylight Thorn
Summary: Quinton Macleod is a newborn Immortal who narrowy escapes a beheading. Unaware of his heritage and his involvement in The Game he finds himself becoming the apprentice Methos. Will he survive the Gathering? First Part in a Series.


Disclaimer: The Highlander series belongs to Gregory Widen. All OC's however belong to me.

**New York City, 2007**

Darkness, it surrounded him, enveloped him and kept him snug in its cold embrace. This place had tormented him for so long, he had become used to it. The man was always there, tormenting him with his sword of shadow, torturing him endlessly just for the hell of it. He had become used to the pain, hell he could barely even feel it anymore. He knelt on the floor, or at least what he assumed was the floor, and looked up at the shadowy figure coldly.

"What the hell do you want from me? I've nothing to give, so what the hell do you want?!" He yelled, tired of the torture. No answer was given, just a violent and disturbing smile before it raised its sword. Quinton sighed before hanging his head low, tired of trying. There was a sound of mad laughter, before the sword was brought down upon his neck.

Quinton awoke with a start, eyes snapping open as he was released from the nightmare that had plagued him for months now. It was one of the main reasons that he hadn't been getting much sleep recently, well, that and the fact that his boss had been riding his ass for weeks about his 'poor performance'. The man was a total prick, and Quinton wanted nothing more than to quit and give him what he deserved. He rolled over and looked clock, it read 11: 47. He had only been asleep for two hours, he sighed before rolling off the bed, slipping into a pair of black pants and a T-shirt and stretching. He couldn't go to sleep, so he might as well go out and get a drink before the bar around the corner closes, hell, he might even try to hit on the cute bartender while he was at it.

He looked around his relatively small apartment and sighed, he didn't understand himself sometimes. All of the money he possessed, and yet he still decided on this mundane lifestyle. It was in his nature though, and with all of the weird things that happens to him on a regular basis…living off the radar seemed like a smart idea. He put on his shoes and grabbed his leather jacket before leaving his apartment, and his nightmare behind him. Walking into the cool night air and listening to the bustling streets of the big apple calmed him for some reason, he was glad for the escape.

As he turned the corner he noticed a tall man watching him from across the street, but he couldn't see his face. His spine tingled for a moment as he watched the figure, before quickly turning around walking at a hurried pace towards the bar. The man couldn't have been watching him, he was just seeing things. He tried to convince himself of this the entire walk to the bar, and as he entered the building his encounter was almost completely forgotten. He looked around and for once noticed that the place was completely empty, the only living soul inside was the bartender Kate.

"Hey Quinton, what can I get ya?" She asked curiously, eyeing him darkly for some odd reason. He sat down on a stool and ran a hand through his black hair, "A glass of Jack Daniels, I need to get messed up tonight Kate." He muttered, making her laugh before grabbing the bottle of liquor and pouring him a glass. He drained it immediately, his eyes watering as the liquid burned his throat. That hit spot; he was probably going to be sitting here all night, drinking away his sorrows. He needed this, the alcohol held all his problems at bay, the loneliness, the depression, the anger. It made all of it disappear, giving him a nice respite, if only for the night.

He asked for another glass, and smiled as his thoughts became clouded…

He staggered, out of the bar with a drunken smile on his face and Kate's number in his pocket. He chuckled softly at the events of the last three hours, happy at the turn of events. He turned into an alley and was immediately startled by the sound of footsteps behind him; he turned around sluggishly before being hit square in the face.

"Shit!" He yelled before he felt another blow connect to his ribs, then his chest, and fell to the ground with a groan of pain. A man loomed over him with a dark chuckle, he was tall, and was dressed in black; he couldn't see his assailant's face. The man grabbed Quinton's throat and picked him up, a broadsword in his right hand.

"What do you want? If you want money than just take my wallet, you don't have to do this." Quinton begged, though this only mad the man laugh at his torment. "You think I want something as simple as money? Gods be praised, you truly are clueless Highlander." He laughed, slamming Quinton against the nearby brick wall. Quinton knew what was coming, and he couldn't do anything about it.

As the man moved closer he spat blood into his face, wanting to be defiant until the end. He had no idea as to why the man called him Highlander, but at the moment that didn't matter. The assailant wiped the blood from his cheek and growled.

"I'm going to stick you like a pig, and then I'm going to take your head. Say hello to your father in the afterlife!" He cackled, before thrusting his blade forward and into Quinton's chest. He felt pain as the cold steel entered his flesh, pain, and a sudden numbness afterwards. He spit blood onto the man's face once more and chuckled.

"I hope you rot in hell you sick bastard." He grumbled, before he lost the will to speak, approaching darkness enveloped him once more. His last thoughts were of his wasted life, and how much he would miss, before there was nothing.

The man wrenched his blade free of the temporary corpse and kicked Quinton's body with his foot, turning it over so that he could properly decapitate him. He chuckled, "That was so much easier than I thought it would be. He practically took all of the fun out of it." He muttered before raising his sword and preparing to swing, but just as he did so the loud bang of a gunshot echoed behind. He felt a sharp pain in his throat, before collapsing. Death took him into its cold embrace instantly, and the nameless assassin entered the alley. He eyed the madman's body wearily before picking up Quinton and making off into the night.

He needed to leave the city tonight; he had hoped that this day would come. But unfortunately Quinton would have to take up his father's legacy. He just hoped that his so called legacy wouldn't end up making him lose his head…

So how was the first chapter guys? I need honest feedback so please read and review!


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